Spring comes every year, but not everyone remembers to stop and smell the flowers. Some are too busy worrying about the future or mistakes they’ve made in the past. Others are preoccupied with not getting caught or thinking of ways to catch someone else. Still, there will always be a few who remember to take a moment and appreciate what spring has given them. Just as there will always be those who prefer to sit in the dark brooding over everything they’ve lost.
... Spring will be here soon. Spring, the season I met you, is coming. A spring without you…is coming.
Déjà les beaux jours, la poussière,
Un ciel d’azur et de lumière,
Les murs enflammés, les longs soirs;
Et rien de vert: à peine encore
Un reflet rougeâtre décore
Les grands arbres aux rameaux noirs!
Ce beau temps me pèse et m’ennuie,
Ce n’est qu’après des jours de pluie
Que doit surgir, en un tableau,
Le printemps verdissant et rose;
Comme une nymphe fraîche éclose,
Qui, souriante, sort de l’eau.
The nightingale disturbed the spring.